Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor

Clang!

The three clock hands atop the Corruption Engine simultaneously spun backwards, stopping precisely at the seventh mark. Immediately, greater changes were triggered.

"Seven!"

A resonant voice echoed through the void, followed by a low, guttural laugh.

Suddenly, the sound of rending flesh tore through the air. The veil of reality split apart, the sky itself breaking open like fragile foam.

"Goddamn giant fluttering bug… did he just punch the outskirts of Nurgle's Garden into our reality?!"

Eden frowned deeply as he gazed at the familiar scenery visible through the rift.

"Savior above, what heretical abomination is this?!"

It wasn't just the Savior shocked into speechlessness. Nearby warriors stared through the yellow-tinted rift at a scene of madness:

A gigantic garden in the peak of a sweltering summer, overflowing with rotting life rejoicing in frenzied growth. Countless damp, pus-oozing things peered out from behind festering foliage.

The membrane of warp energy covering the rift was riddled with holes and expanding rapidly. The swamp's foul stench gushed outward, as swarms of giant flies with swollen bellies lifted off from diseased plants.

They swarmed through the holes, entering the real world.

Eden could clearly feel the air growing hot and humid, the pungent scent of putrescence infiltrating every corner of the area.

The corruption's spread intensified as the Corruption Engine continued its activation sequence.

It was siphoning Nurgle's decay directly into this region, eroding all in its path – whether living or not. The ground melted, steel sprouted fungal blotches, and countless machines twisted into horrific new forms.

Even more troubling were the looming shadows drawing closer – the daemonic legions of Nurgle!

Eden issued more commands:

"Quickly! Establish additional defensive lines! Under no circumstances can we let Nurgle's daemons break through into civilian zones!"

If those daemons reached the residential districts, it would be a catastrophe. The entire planet could become infected and corrupted, establishing a permanent anchor point linking Nurgle's Garden to realspace.

If that happened, the Plague God's armies could pour through endlessly, threatening the entire Savior's Domain.

Perhaps that was exactly how the Imperium's region known as the Scourge Stars had originally fallen – without even a chance to resist.

Under the Savior's orders, more troops descended from orbit to fortify the surface. Numerous transports delivered massive tower-like mechanical constructs. Tech-priests rapidly began constructing emergency energy networks.

Everything proceeded with methodical urgency.

Boom, boom, boom—

Heavy artillery opened fire upon the Corruption Engine, but under the warp's distorting influence, none of the strikes landed effectively. Perhaps only once the rift calmed would a window of attack open.

Splat.

A small Nurgling slammed onto the ground.

It was the first sign that Nurgle's lifeforms had crossed from the Immaterium into reality, arriving upon the planet's surface.

The creature clambered upright, cackling madly.

This tiny daemon looked harmless – barely knee-high to a human – yet carried a lethal threat. They delighted in using their claws and fangs to infect victims.

"Yaaah!"

The Nurgling imitated a Greater Daemon's roar, charging forward on stubby legs, eager to rip open some human's belly and feast upon their intestines.

However, before it could run more than a few steps, splat – it was stomped flat, its viscous fluids spreading across the corrupted ground.

The bloated foot belonged to a Plaguebearer.

One by one, more Plaguebearers manifested – tall, horned daemons with sallow faces, muttering the pestilent names Nurgle had bestowed upon them.

Each silently counted plague effects in their minds:

The number of flies within each swarm, how often Nurglings laughed, how many objects had succumbed to decay. These were tasks never to be completed, eternal torments gifted alongside their plagues.

Their total number reached 777.

They murmured to themselves as they formed ordered ranks, raising their banners high, trampling the Nurglings underfoot in a macabre parade.

Then, the dull toll of a bell echoed out, accompanied by the wheezing notes of broken instruments.

A daemonic herald set foot upon the ground.

He appeared both daemon and human, his two eyes darting about crazily.

The herald hacked up a gob of foul-smelling phlegm, then drew out a horn and blew into it with all his might.

His leaky lips wheezed pitifully, yet the rusted horn erupted with a thunderous blast.

All the daemons turned their gazes upon him.

Delighted by the attention, he straightened his hunched back further, maggots spilling from his bloated belly.

He drew a deep breath, then roared in a grandiose, dramatic tone:

"Rotten cabbage, AIDS, syphilis, genital warts – First Lord of the Ninth Daemon Court: Xithiras!"

At the same time, the giant flies droned in unison, chanting the name of that Great Unclean One, praising his unmatched achievements.

Xithiras was the creator of magnificent human-borne viruses, having infected countless lives, and was the foremost daemon under Nurgle in battling Slaanesh's Greater Daemons.

His war record was illustrious beyond measure.

The herald shrieked in excitement:

"He's coming! He's coming! The mighty Lord Xithiras is here!"

With a wave of nauseating stench, a towering Plague Giant strode forth. Each step left behind rotting, warty sores.

Its gargantuan, blubber-laden body rippled with greenish fat, releasing clouds of specialized pathogens with every quiver.

"Damn… what a terrifying monster…" Eden sucked in a sharp breath at hearing the Ninth Nurgle Favored One's name and reputation.

He instinctively stepped back slightly, turning to Carter:

"Our defensive strength is still too thin. I recommend reinforcing further – divert all Holy Ash Rounds here immediately!"

The arrival of this Nurgle Favored One struck panic into many hearts.

Clang!

Far away, an old transport worker clad in full hazmat gear, who had been crouched by a wheel hub repairing a vehicle, jolted at the sound. His tool clattered to the ground.

Checking the time, he immediately abandoned the repair and called for support:

"Third Transport Team C98, emergency! My heavy hauler is corroded beyond salvage. No possibility of repairs in time!

We need a new vehicle to transport the core module of the Holy Wall. It must arrive within ten minutes!"

Reinforcements came swiftly.

Barely ten seconds later, a fighter craft swooped overhead, temporarily repurposed as a transport shuttle.

Then, an ear-piercing alarm rang out across comms.

Hearing it, the old transport worker dropped his tools entirely and turned to flee at full sprint.

The warp-energy concentration in this sector was about to breach safe thresholds. No mortals could remain here any longer.

If they didn't evacuate, they would soon be transformed into plague zombies.

Meanwhile, the fighter lifted the several-meter-tall core module, surging towards the frontlines without hesitation.

Dense yellow smoke billowed across the factory zone, which spanned dozens of kilometers, as all efforts focused on constructing layer upon layer of defenses.

Because gathering here were Nurgle's most wretched children:

The repulsive, plague-spreading Plaguebearers, gigantic rotting Beasts of Nurgle, carrion maggots the size of trucks, and even more horrific daemon spawn.

Great columns of Nurgle's lifeforms advanced to the merry cacophony of diseased instruments. Wherever they passed, pestilence followed, leaving even steel pillars blistered and warped.

Due to their extreme infectivity, these armies hardly needed to fight – merely reaching any destination would transform it into a pestilent paradise.

That was why Eden ordered layered defenses.

Simply killing these daemons was not enough – it could even worsen the outbreak. They were deadlier than any other daemon breed to mortals. Even a single Nurgling escaping into a city could cause catastrophic plague.

Above, countless attack craft bombarded the daemon host.

Yet the effect was negligible. Many bombs were corroded away mid-air by the thick yellow smog.

Bang bang bang—

Space Marine squads fired from entrenched positions, mowing down any daemons approaching the defensive lines, ensuring no stragglers slipped through.

"Father Nurgle above, let disease devour this world. The plague anchor shall be eternal!"

Xithiras strode forward with ponderous steps, commanding his legions towards the defenses. All life withered and twisted into sickly forms under his gaze.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh.

Several Holy Ash Rounds streaked towards him.

"Ah, those cursed weapons!"

Yet the Ninth Favored One showed no fear, instead urging his troops to accelerate.

He intended to corrupt enough territory to anchor the Corruption Engine, establishing a permanent warp gate upon this planet.

Bzzzz…

One by one, golden suns flared in the skies, only to be smothered by the creeping yellow mists of the Corruption Engines.

Nurgle's Garden continuously poured forth its corrupting energies, clashing with the holy light and extinguishing those terrible orbs of weaponized brilliance.

"Look upon this, Savior! Your cursed weapons are useless now. Under Father Nurgle's blessing, the Prince of Decay has found a way to neutralize them."

Xithiras roared with triumphant laughter, the grotesque orchestral music swelling in manic celebration.

He intended to claim this world as his own, establishing it as a foothold to conquer further territories within the Savior's domain. With such achievements, Father Nurgle's favor would be his.

Even more importantly, he was desperate not to lose to Ku'gath, that pampered bastard. Ku'gath had received far more resources, enabling his tremendous victories.

If Xithiras could seize even greater spoils with far fewer resources, he would earn universal respect!

This thought ignited fervor in the Ninth Favored One's heart. He could hardly wait to infect more lands.

"…Troublesome."

Eden frowned at the battlefield before him.

This was the first time Holy Ash Rounds had lost their deterrent effect in battle, dealing a blow to morale.

But it was within predictions.

After all, it had been half a century since their first deployment. It was only natural that daemons would eventually devise countermeasures.

Sometimes, even the Emperor wasn't omnipotent.

Turning to the nearby Archmagos, Eden asked,

"Archmagos, when will the Holy Wall be operational?"

The Archmagos frantically calculated, barely pausing to reply, his words rushed:

"By the Omnissiah… at current assembly speeds… ten… no, eight minutes until completion.

Factoring in power channeling… approximately eight minutes and thirteen seconds…"

His response was meticulous to the decimal.

Behind them, a massive prismatic mechanical tower rose from the ground. Countless Tech-Priests scurried about, installing module after module.

Boom!

Xithiras led his legion of Nurgle's Great Unclean Ones – multiples of seven in number – and his Plaguebearers, smashing through another defensive line. The plague swamps expanded further.

Under the corrosive yellow mists, the remaining fortifications trembled on the brink of collapse. Clearly, holding them further was futile.

Seeing this, Eden ordered his warriors to retreat, avoiding needless casualties.

He alone stepped forward to face Xithiras, psychic power surging around him, burning away the encroaching yellow fog.

"Savior… or should I call you Devourer… your weapons are useless now. You're like a blood bat with its fangs torn out."

Xithiras rasped, his massive, bloated body looming over the Primarch of Hope:

"You alone cannot withstand my legions. This planet is mine!"

As he spoke, more Plaguebearers and daemons advanced to encircle the legendary figure.

"Apologies, but it seems you are the ones surrounded."

Eden mentally counted down, then looked up with a calm smile. It was as if he wasn't the one about to be surrounded, but rather the tide of daemons before him.

"What?!"

Xithiras jolted, sensing something amiss. He whipped his gaze to the side, spotting an odd mechanical tower hidden behind cloaking devices.

A dark premonition struck him. He roared,

"Spewer! Destroy that construct immediately!"

The towering daemon lumbered forward, spewing gouts of corrosive pus at the tower.

Too late.

Vmmmm—!!!

The Tech-Priests connected the final conduit. Golden energy surged from the distant Holy Tower, spreading along miles of energy channels across the ground.

Each node ignited the surrounding towers in radiant brilliance.

All the glowing towers linked together, forming a vast circular barrier of light around the battlefield.

For some reason, the holy energies felt stronger than ever, radiating a faint aura of comfort.

"AAAAAH!"

Within the blessed light, undead abominations and daemons alike were incinerated into ash. Even the billowing yellow mists were halted in their spread.

Father Nurgle's power – his Garden's influence – had been obstructed.

This was the Holy Wall.

A modular defense system capable of channeling the Holy Tower's power into a barrier strong enough to block Chaos daemons.

Such equipment was invaluable for defending critical worlds.

Its only flaw: it was single-use. The tower modules could not sustain the holy energies indefinitely.

Even so, its battlefield impact was immense.

For a moment, the entire battle fell silent.

Nurgle's daemons froze. The raucous orchestra abruptly lost its fervor, falling into eerie quiet.

Many powerful daemons exchanged uneasy glances.

"Now… it's my turn to shut the gates and slay the hounds."

Eden's cold eyes locked onto Xithiras. These plague-ridden bastards had ravaged the galaxy long enough.

He smiled slightly, teeth gleaming white.

"Xithiras. Your end has come."

As his words fell, more Holy Ash Rounds were fired, bombarding the Corruption Engine and the daemon legions. Brilliant suns ignited one after another, burning away the yellow fog.

While Nurgle's daemons had devised ways to temporarily resist holy light, it only worked when the enemy's firepower was insufficient.

With the Holy Wall weakening the fog, the Ash Rounds now wreaked full devastation.

In truth, even without the Wall, Eden could have resolved this with enough Ash Rounds and heavier bombardment.

Sheer firepower could solve anything.

Gradually, the yellow mist thinned, the warp energies channeled in unable to match the consumption rate.

The Corruption Engine shook violently, on the verge of collapse.

"No! My promise to Father… my plague cultures!"

Xithiras could no longer laugh. His rotting, blubbered face twisted into sheer panic. His grand plans were about to crumble to nothing.

"Lord of the Ninth Daemon Court… perhaps we should… retreat…"

The herald daemon trembled, all sycophancy gone. He even abandoned his prized horn, letting it sink into the plague sludge.

Terror filled his mind as he realized Father Nurgle's protective fog was fading.

The cursed weapons and the terrifying Devourer returned to the forefront of his thoughts.

It wasn't just him. The entire daemon army quaked in fear.

Those powerful daemons who had previously faced the Devourer shook uncontrollably. Plaguebearers stopped their muttered calculations, eyes darting for escape routes.

Nurglings shrieked and ran in every direction, their earlier ferocity utterly gone.

Under the threat of holy weapons and annihilation, Nurgle's forces lost all will to fight.

"No… I haven't lost yet!"

Xithiras panted heavily, torn by desperate indecision. He refused to return in disgrace.

Szzzzt—

Another Holy Ash Round exploded. The cursed light pierced the thinning fog, searing his corrupted flesh.

The pain cleared his mind.

"Father… I've failed you…"

He wailed in anguish, then clambered onto a palanquin woven from rotting wood and vines. He barked his order:

"Quick! Retreat!"

Survival was paramount.

"Ah!"

The herald daemon grinned in relief upon hearing the command, waving on the Plaguebearers carrying the palanquin towards the collapsing warp gate.

Xithiras was far too massive to move quickly on foot, requiring such transport.

The herald even joined in lifting the palanquin, panting as he ran.

The daemon horde surged after them, stampeding towards the warp rift.

But halfway there—

BOOOOOOM—

A blinding sphere of holy energy detonated at the Corruption Engine, burning away its warp-infused supports.

Rumble rumble rumble—

The entire construct collapsed into a heap of broken metal. The rift overhead flickered and shattered, the illusory image of Nurgle's Garden vanishing like a burst bubble.

Their way home was gone.

The daemons froze in horror before erupting into panicked chaos.

"No!"

Xithiras himself was toppled in the chaos, crashing to the ground in wretched humiliation.

"Aaaahhhh! The Devourer is going to eat us all!"

Nurglings clung to each other, sobbing uncontrollably, all their bravado gone.

"…Now, time for the final step. Let's give them a proper cleansing bath."

Eden watched the battlefield and issued his last order. The Archmagos initiated the atmospheric regulators, summoning a rain laced with purifying agents.

That was true mass destruction.

Without the protection of the yellow fog, the daemons would be fully exposed to the cleansing rain.

The machinery roared to life.

Thunder boomed as dark clouds gathered. Soon, crystalline rain poured down upon the land.

Under the dual assault of Holy Ash Rounds and purification rain, Nurgle's forces fell one by one, their corpses sprouting vibrant green grasses, flowers, and vines before dissolving into silence.

When the rain finally ceased—

This plague-rotted hellscape had transformed into a lush, vibrant jungle paradise.

The plants, nourished by the decaying corpses, flourished wildly, rapidly cleansing every trace of corruption.

Soon, the rancid stench faded, replaced by fresh rain-soaked air, floral fragrances, and verdant greenery.

This place, once a Nurgle-corrupted nightmare, had become the most beautiful region on Martilla – bar none.

"F… Father…"

A faint voice rasped from within a towering flowerbed.

It was Xithiras. Almost all his plagues and bacteria were gone, yet he still clung to life.

Eden walked up to this plague-lord whose sins weighed heavier than worlds, drawing a small Holy Ash Round.

Raising his hand slightly, he spoke softly:

"Bastard. You should never have come to this galaxy."

BOOM!

The sacred weapon fired, reducing Xithiras to ash. Nurgle's plan to conquer Martilla and the Savior's Domain lay in ruins.

"…Huh. Is Lokharr about to arrive?"

The thought suddenly crossed Eden's mind.

Another great battle loomed on the horizon. Thankfully, the Emperor's Beloved "Tsar Bomba" was nearly in position.

It was a blessing Lokharr hadn't arrived alongside Nurgle's legions. Otherwise… even he might not have been able to hold.

...

The Warp – Desolate Wastes

"It seems… my destined rival has grown stronger yet again."

Ka'Bandha watched the footage of Nurgle's forces being slaughtered, his face dark with contemplation.

He felt fortunate for his caution. Unlike the reckless Nurgle horde, he had waited, letting Xithiras test the Savior first.

As expected, the Savior wielded yet another terrifying weapon – one tailored specifically against Nurgle's daemons.

"…Does the Savior have a weapon tailored for me as well?"

He was the Devourer's eternal nemesis. Surely his foe had prepared something even deadlier for his arrival.

Doubt gnawed at the Bloodthirster Supreme's heart. For the first time in eons… fear.

Ordinary Holy Ash Rounds no longer concerned him, but what if there were stronger weapons waiting?

He could not risk attacking the Savior's domain outright. It could cost him his life.

Retreat…?

Ka'Bandha glanced at his trusted lieutenant, Bal, hesitation plain in his eyes:

"Perhaps… we should…"

He couldn't finish the words "retreat." He had led the Blood God's most elite legions here. To flee before even facing the enemy would be disgraceful.

The other Greater Daemons of Khorne would never respect him again. The Blood God himself might flay him alive.

But to press forward… meant risking death.

Bal saw his master's turmoil and spoke firmly:

"My Lord, the galaxy's warfronts are shifting. We should redeploy. Moving to Ultramar is the wisest course."

Ka'Bandha nodded furiously:

"Yes… yes, that's exactly what I was thinking. We'll redeploy!"

Redeploy. They had to redeploy. Not even the Blood God could change that now – and besides, Khorne wasn't here to stop him.

Nothing was more important than his own life.

However, when Ka'Bandha issued the order to shift towards Ultramar, his Greater Daemon commanders erupted in fierce objection.

It seemed… this war could not be avoided after all.

(End of Chapter)

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